


An Unassuming Life - Part 7

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Series: Domestic!Dean [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 10:31:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6851116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that everyone knows, Dean and the reader have some issues they need to clear up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unassuming Life - Part 7

 

The next half an hour was a shitstorm of craziness. Jess was crying, trying to apologize, John and Sam were confused, Mary was equal parts happy and worried, and the children were bewildered and tired. Somehow, Mary managed to calm everyone down, put the twins and Henry in the family room in front of a movie and gather the rest of the family in the kitchen, everyone with a beer or a glass of wine, you with a can of ginger ale.

“Alright, Y/N,” Mary said. “What’s going on?”

You quickly explained as much as you could - the pregnancy, Dean’s worries about the shop and it’s future, and your reluctance to tell him about the new baby so as not to add to his worry. When you finished, to your surprise, it was John who leaned forward and cleared his throat.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, Y/N,” your father-in-law said. “Brutally honest. Not telling Dean that you were pregnant was wrong. You should have told him sooner, especially before saying anything to Jess.” 

“I didn’t -” you muttered. 

“She didn’t -” Jess said at the same time. She glanced at you, sighing. “Look, it just sort of happened. She was upset and I just...figured it out.” Sam pressed a kiss to the top of Jess’s head, squeezed her shoulder, and murmured something in her ear.

“Okay, fine,” John smiled warily at his other daughter-in-law. “So it wasn’t intentional that you told Jess before Dean. Regardless, it happened. And, apparently, this baby wasn’t planned and you think it’s going to cause a lot of problems. There are so many issues going on right now that could have been easily resolved by talking to your husband. Now, that being said, my son is also being a stubborn ass. He has no right to be angry with you over something that took both of you to accomplish. So, we’re going to keep Henry here with us tonight and you’re going to go find Dean and set all of this straight.”

“Of course,” you said quietly. “Thank you.”

Mary followed you to the door after you said your goodbyes to Henry. She pulled you into a hug that seemed to last forever, then held you at arm’s length, giving you that look she had, the one that told you she loved you but you’d done something to disappoint her. You knew exactly what it was you’d done.

“I’m sorry, Mary,” you shrugged. “If it’s any consolation, being here tonight, with you guys, made me realize that I needed to tell Dean, that no matter what, we could do anything because we had such an amazing family to support us. I was going to tell him as soon as we got home tonight. Then it all blew up in my face.” Tears rolled down your cheeks and you sniffled.

Mary pressed a tissue into your hand and a kiss to your cheek. “Go find your husband and talk to him.”

* * *

The lights were on in the back of the shop, just the one on Dean’s desk from the look of it. You could just see the top of his head beneath the edge of the wall of windows separating the office from the rest of the shop.

You’d gone home after leaving John and Mary’s, but Dean hadn’t been there, the house still dark, the Impala nowhere to be seen. You’d pull into the driveway, wondering if you should just go inside and wait, but that wasn’t going to accomplish anything. Instead, you’d backed out and headed for the place that had become his second home, the shop. At first, you had thought he wasn’t there, no car out front, and no lights noticeable anywhere. You drove around the block, out of ideas as to where Dean could be, when you saw the Impala, parked behind the building, under the huge awning, deep in the shadows. You’d pulled in and parked behind it.

Now you were standing in the shadows, staring at the back of Dean’s head through the glass. You were still slightly in shock at the reaction he’d had to the news of your pregnancy. You’d known he didn’t want another baby, not right now, not in the financial situation you were currently in, but you also hadn’t expected him to react like he did. You were on the pill, but that didn’t absolve him of any responsibility. You were wavering on a thin line between anger and hurt, not quite sure which way you were going to land. You weren’t sure what seeing your husband’s face would do to you.

You pushed yourself away from the door and made your way to the office. You tapped lightly on the door and pushed it open. Dean was sitting on the old love seat that had been there since Bobby owned the business, a beer from the office fridge in his hand, the look on his face unhappy and dejected.

“Hi,” you murmured.

“Hey,” he replied, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Found me, huh?”

“Yeah, Houdini, I found you,” you replied, dropping into his office chair. “What are you doing here?”

“Hiding,” Dean mumbled. “Thinking.” He took a drink from the bottle.

You pushed your hair off of your face and took a deep breath. “Were you planning on coming home tonight? Or were you going to stay here?”

Dean gave you a sarcastic smile, his dimples more prominent than usual, which always happened when he flashed that grin at you. He drained the bottle of beer in his hand and let it drop to the table beside him. “I really don’t feel like talking right now, Y/N. Go home. I need some time to process everything.”

You recoiled, Dean’s words, coupled with the tone of his voice, like a slap to your face. You clenched your fists, your half-bitten nails biting into the palms of your hand.

“Dean -”

He cut you off before you could say anything else. “You know what, I think I will just stay here. At least here I know what’s going on and no one keeps me in the dark.”

You rose to your feet and stalked across the room until you were inches from Dean. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just what it sounds like!” he yelled, jumping to his feet. “You’re pregnant and you didn’t tell me! I thought we agreed -”

“It’s not like I set out to do the opposite of what we discussed,” you argued. “I didn’t try to get pregnant, but it happened.” You sighed and rolled your eyes. “You know, I’ve never been able to understand why people blame the woman in situations like this. But what I really can’t believe is that my  _ husband _ is blaming  _ me _ for this. I never expected something like that from you. You’re just as responsible for this baby as I am.”

You turned to leave, but Dean grabbed your arm, yanking you against him. “Is that what you think I’m upset about? You think I’m upset because you’re pregnant?” He shook his head, his green eyes flashing angrily. “I’m not upset that you’re pregnant, Y/N. I’m upset that you didn’t tell me, that  _ Jess, _ my fucking sister-in-law, found out before I did. We’re supposed to be partners, but you kept this from me.  _ Intentionally _ kept this from me. That’s what I’m angry about.”

“Wh-what?” you stammered. “But...the shop...and the money...and...everything. You...you said we shouldn’t have another baby right now, that we couldn’t have another baby. I knew you’d be furious, so…” You struggled to take in a deep breath.

Dean cupped the side of your face in his hand, his touch warm and gentle, instantly calming you. He leaned his forehead against yours and kissed the tip of your nose, his other hand coming to rest on your stomach, just above your hips. 

“Y/N, I am not angry about the baby,” he sighed. “How could I be? This baby is part of us, just like Henry is a part of us. How could I ever be angry about that? And the money doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out, just like we always do.” His lips brushed against yours, the lightest of kisses. “Jesus, this got all fucked up. No wonder you’ve looked so unhappy and miserable. I’m sorry, baby.”

You rose up on your toes, pressing your lips to his, releasing the breath you’d been holding for what felt like weeks, smiling. “Me, too,” you whispered.

Dean’s arm slipped around your waist, pulling you tight against his body, lifting you off of your feet. He kissed you hungrily, a low growl in the back of his throat. You returned the kiss, your fingers brushing through the short hairs on the back of his neck.

“I hate it when we fight,” he mumbled.

“Hmm, so do I,” you breathed. “Things have been so crazy, we never see each other, everything gets twisted around, and I jumped to a conclusion I shouldn’t have.” Dean’s cell phone chirped from the middle of his desk, interrupting what you were saying.

He set you back on your feet, chuckling. “That’ll be my mom. Again. She’s been texting me every ten minutes telling me how pissed she is at me.” He stepped around you, his hand lingering on your waist, and picked up the phone. He nodded, swiped his finger across the screen and handed it to you. “See, she’s ready to kick my ass.”

You quickly read through Mary’s texts to Dean. You hit the call button, shaking your head and laughing. She answered on the first ring.

“Dean Winchester, I swear I am going to have your brother kick your ass for me,” she said. “You are being a stubborn di -”

“Mary, it’s me,” you interrupted. “I’m with Dean. We’re good.” 

“Oh, thank God,” she muttered. “I’ve been worried sick. That damn son of mine is so stubborn and single minded. Don’t take any shit from him, Y/N, I mean it.”

“I won’t, I promise,” you laughed. 

“Let me talk to him,” Mary demanded.

You held out the phone to Dean, who took it gingerly. The second he said hello, you could hear his mother start in on him, her voice getting louder and louder. Your husband was cringing and nodding, occasionally mumbling “Yes ma’am,” and “Sorry, ma’am,”

“Jesus, she’s pissed at me,” he muttered when he finally disconnected the call. He tossed the phone back on the desk. “It’s gonna take a while for her to get over this.” He tossed his phone back on his desk, then he pulled you back into his arms. “How long are you going to be mad at me?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, a couple of months?” you teased. “You know, unless you can convince me otherwise.”

Dean chuckled, dropping his head to kiss your neck, licking a line from your shoulder to your jaw, nibbling his way to your ear. “Mom’s keeping Henry for the night,” he whispered. “She said it was so we could talk if we needed to.” He sucked your earlobe into his mouth, making you gasp. “What do you say, Y/N? Do we need to talk?”

“Shh,” you whispered. “Keep doing what you’re doing. We’ll talk later.”

He laughed again, his hands slipping under the edge of your shirt, pushing it up, his hands on your ribs, your breasts, his thumbs drifting across the hard nipples straining against the lacy fabric of your bra. He caught your lips in his, his tongue sliding into your mouth, exploring every inch. He walked you backwards until your calves hit the loveseat, then he was carefully lowering you to it, one arm around your back, the other on your leg, sliding down your thigh, pulling it around his waist as he kneeled on the floor in front of you. He pulled your shirt over your head, then set to work on your jeans, while you reached back and unhooked your bra.

The second your bra hit the floor, Dean’s mouth was on you, his tongue laving your nipple, sucking it between his teeth, drawing a gasp from you when he bit it gently, your back arching, nails digging into his shoulders. You fisted his t-shirt in your hands, tugging it over his head and dropping it to the floor. You ran your hands over the muscles in his back, loving the feel of his skin against yours.

Dean pulled away and quickly unbuttoned his jeans, the tip of his cock peeking from the top of his boxers. You licked your lips, wanting to touch him, to taste him, the thought making your mouth water. You reached for him, but he caught your wrists in his hands, holding them against your sides. He leaned over and kissed you, his hands moving to your inner thighs, caressing them. He dropped his head, raining kisses across your stomach, his fingers dancing over the lips of your damp pussy, easily finding your clit and slowly massaging the nub of swollen nerves until you were trembling.

“Dean,” you moaned, hands scrambling for purchase as the sensations built in the pit of your stomach, your husband’s fingers now buried deep inside you, thrusting wildly, his thumb circling your clit. You came with a scream of his name, the orgasm rocketing through you, consuming you.

You were barely coming down before Dean’s jeans were off and he was lifting you and pulling you into his lap, his huge hand stroking his cock as he positioned you above him and entered you, slow and easy. He took your head in his hands, his lips on your neck and your jaw, peppering you with sweet kisses.

You slid forward, moaning as Dean completely filled you, his cock brushing against your sweet spot. His hands moved down your back to your ass, gripping you tight, pulling you forward, his head tipped back, staring up at you. You rested your hands on his shoulders, your forehead against his as you moved, your knees pressed against the back of the loveseat, kissing him, deep, desperate, all tongue and wet lips, unspoken apologies traded with nothing more than a touch, a gasp, a kiss, a moan.

Dean squeezed your ass, yanking you toward him, his hips rising up to meet yours, urging you to move, faster and faster until you were rocking back and forth, riding him hard, every thrust hitting you just right, making you cry out his name. You shoved your hand between your bodies, your fingers on your clit, rubbing it as your husband repeatedly pounded into you, the intense pleasure building until your entire body was shuddering. Dean groaned and yanked you forward, burying himself inside you as he came. 

Your own orgasm slammed into you, rocking you to your core, your vision going white, your body tensing as you came. Dean kissed you, his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you against him, his hips jerking as he emptied his seed into you.

You went limp in his arms, lying sprawled over his chest, breathing heavily. His fingers drifted up and down your back, his touch soft and tender. You turned your head and pressed a kiss to the center of his chest, then the hollow of his throat, the underside of his jaw, and finally his lips. His tongue drifted across your mouth, licking at your bottom lip until you opened your mouth and he could kiss you.

“You’re forgiven,” you whispered.

“So are you,” he laughed.

* * *

The next morning, Dean took the day off from the shop, let you sleep late, made you breakfast and then the two of you showered together, something that took far longer than it should have, thanks to your husband’s roaming hands. By the time you left the house to pick up Henry, it was mid-afternoon.

“Henry!” Dean bellowed as he walked through his parent’s front door.

“Daddy!” The squeal echoed through the house as your son came running, catapulting himself into his father’s arms from three feet away. His arms went around Dean’s neck, hugging him tight.

“Hey, little man,” Dean smiled, returning the hug. “Were you good for Grandma?”

“Yep,” Henry smiled. “I only had time-out two times.”

“Two times, huh?” Dean chuckled. “What did you do?”

You stopped beside them and pressed a kiss to Henry’s cheek before pushing past them and making your way to the kitchen in search of Mary. You found her pulling a pie from the oven.

“Apple?” you asked, sliding into a chair at the table, smiling widely.

“Mmm-hmm,” Mary hummed. “So, talk. Are you two okay?”

“We’re fine, Mom,” Dean interjected as he came in behind you, Henry slung over his shoulder. “It was a misunderstanding that has been rectified.” He sat his son on the counter so he could hug his mother. “So you can stop being mad at me and threatening to have Sammy kick my ass.”

Mary laughed and kissed her son on the cheek. “Watch your mouth in front of Henry,” she mumbled. “That’s why he had two time-outs. He seems to think ‘son of a bitch’ is the thing to say when he’s upset.”

“Henry!” Dean turned to his son, a stern look on his face, though his eyes danced with laughter. 

The three-year-old’s eyes widened noticeably and his lower lip quivered. “I sorry, Daddy,” he whispered.

“I know you are, little man. Just because I say those words doesn’t mean you can, okay?” Dean smiled softly. “How about we remind each other not to say them? If I say them, you get to tell me not to. Deal?” He held out his hand, which Henry took immediately. He shook it firmly, just like Dean had taught him, nodding his head.

He lifted Henry off the counter and set him on the floor. “Besides, if you’re going to be a big brother, you’re going to have to show your little brother or sister how it’s done.”

“A big brudder?” Henry asked. “You gots a baby? Where?” He looked around, clearly confused.

“Not yet,” you laughed, pushing yourself to your feet and kneeling in front of your son. “In a few months. But you can help Daddy and I get ready for the baby to get here, okay?”

Henry nodded enthusiastically, bouncing on the tips of his toes. You knew there would be a million questions later and probably some tears, even jealousy, but you were confident that you and Dean could handle anything that came along. You always did.

* * *

_ Eight months later _

“Dean?” You poked your husband in the side, trying to wake him. “Dean?”

He stirred, head coming up, looking up at you sleepily. “Hey, you okay?” he asked.

“No,” you mumbled, struggling to push yourself out of the bed. “Call your parents. We need to go the hospital.”


End file.
